


The Queen's Journal

by Ailanthium



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dimimari Week, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailanthium/pseuds/Ailanthium
Summary: A collection of short stories for DimiMari Week 2020.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund
Kudos: 29





	1. Smile

The expression in the mirror’s reflection was unrecognizable. A thousand times she gazed into it, and a thousand times she failed to convince herself that her smile was genuine. Marianne heard the whispers of the court, reminding her that others thought her dour and unpleasant. This had long stopped bothering her. Still, her queenly duties demanded that she grace the kingdom’s knights with a smile she had never seen herself. Was it beautiful and delicate like a lily of the valley, or fiendish and grotesque like the beast of the forest?

A cloaked figure draped himself across her shoulders, his pale blue gaze resting on her lips. Blonde locks fell across her shoulders and tickled her collarbone as he reached to kiss her cheek. “You’re beautiful no matter the expression you take,” Dimitri whispered.

She didn’t believe that. Even so—for a fleeting moment—she caught a smile in her reflection, real and warm and nothing at all like a flower nor a beast.


	2. Sanctuary

Moonlight shone upon the empty pews through the monastery’s half-crumbled walls. Dimitri often found himself here when he was troubled, a habit he’d picked up from years in isolation. Though he knew the words well, he couldn’t find it in himself to offer the Goddess a prayer. Others were far more deserving of her guidance in these troubled times.

Dimitri did not expect to find another here, nearly lost in the shadow he cast. 

“The Goddess must have many blessings for a lady as devout as yourself.” 

“I’m sure she grows tired of my voice,” Marianne replied, taking a seat in the wooden pews near him. “Though I admire her patience in dealing with someone as difficult as me. And what do you seek here, Dimitri?”

“You could say I’m something of a problem child myself,” he answered grimly. “The light I seek… I fear that I am unworthy of it. For as often as I have come to this place, I have failed to address the Goddess properly.”

“Would you like to pray with me now?”

“It has been so long that I fear I have forgotten how,” Dimitri confessed, cautiously taking a seat next to her. “Are you certain you would not prefer solitude? I would grant you that much without hesitation.”

“There’s a thin line between solitude and loneliness,” she answered, quietly grasping his hands between her own and lifting them in prayer. “Your presence here is enough.”

They closed their eyes and recited scripture, offering their prayers to the Goddess. Dimitri struggled to commit to the words, unable to find her light within him. He could accept that, for he had found his own sanctuary in this place, hidden in Marianne’s breath.


	3. Beast

Areadbhar pierced through the soldier’s breastplate, emerging cleanly on the other side. The weight of Dimitri’s armor crashed into the fresh corpse and forced the lance into the staggered archer behind him, skewering both against the holy weapon. His heel turned in the dirt, shifting toward their companions and slinging their bodies at them. A frenzied eye hunted down its next victim. Dimitri leapt into the air, impaling another soldier with ease, and then another. Corpses fell all around him until the grass was stained with their blood and the only heart left thumping against its ribs was his own.

He was alone, surrounded by the dead, and it was his fault.

Dimitri collapsed to his knees, the weight of his actions falling on his shoulders. His breathing became ragged and tortured. He thought he was beyond this, that his professor’s actions had slain the beast inside him. The young king quickly realized that the beast was merely chained, and that he alone carried the key. Resisting the temptation to free it would be his burden, and he had already failed once and again.

A guttural cry escaped from his lips as steel clattered to the ground. It was not his own weapon that had fallen, however, but Marianne’s. She raced to his side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him tightly. Her hands wiped away his tears and caressed his cheek. “I strayed too far from the field,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Just breathe for me, alright?” Marianne cooed, her voice soft and steady, as if caring for a wounded animal. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri repeated. “I’m sorry.”

“Breathe… breathe…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Marianne pried the lance from his hands, finger by finger, its fiery glow subsiding as she tossed it to the side. Dimitri’s hands curled into fists as she placed her own over them. Blood and dirt was caked onto her fingernails, and he knew that she had sullied them for his sake.


	4. Seasons

She came with the first snow of the year. The kingdom’s capital was dusted white with frost, a beautiful—if not warm—welcome for the woman who would become queen. Marianne had braved her fair share of snowstorms, but none as relentless as those that brutalized Fhirdiad. The people who lived there could be equally as cold. They would have preferred for the young king to choose a more politically advantageous wife; Count Galatea’s daughter, fiercely loyal and as of yet unmarried, was a popular suggestion. Dimitri privately balked at the idea, uncomfortable with the idea of something so old-fashioned and more than happy with the lady he was smitten with.

The flowers bloomed early, nearly decimated by a late snowstorm. By the time the kingdom finally filled with color, its people had warmed up to Marianne. She was delicate and reserved, maybe a little on the gloomy side, but very much loved by their king. To see him smile was a thing of wonder. After the many harsh years that followed the war, his happiness seemed more than deserved. To her credit, he also seemed a great deal wiser with her at his side, and it was often said that “behind every great man is a great woman.”

When the sun bore down upon Fódlan through long midsummer days, the fear of rebellion hung heavy in the air. Few expected the remnants of the Adrestian Empire to mount a full-scale invasion. Still, the risk of smaller confrontations that could escalate into something more perilous lingered. Dimitri ignored the most hawkish members of his council, who urged him to quash any semblance of discontent beneath his boot, instead heeding the advice of those who urged compassion and restraint. Marianne was rumored to be chief among them. Together with their former professor, they listened to the concerns of the masses, enacting sweeping measures to ensure that war would never again envelop Fódlan.

The leaves that fell in waves of orange, red, brown, and purple signaled that some semblance of normality had returned to the kingdom. The threat of war had passed and the country’s people returned to the long road to recovery. It was then that the newly crowned King of Almyra returned to Fódlan, bearing all manner of gifts. Claude was surprised to see how much had changed in his absence, and even more surprised that Dimitri and Marianne were not yet wed. A little prodding here and there ensured a swift marriage, and Claude was happy to see it for himself before returning to Almyra. The reunion was far more blissful than the one at Gronder Field, he thought.

By the time snow returned to the palace, the queen was expecting a new addition to the royal family.


	5. Future

Dimitri’s hair grew longer and grayer than he’d ever thought possible. Each passing year was a gift from the Goddess, he thought, but even her blessings were finite—save for their ever young professor. Illness fell upon him as he neared his eightieth year, and Dimitri immediately knew he would not overcome it. Though at first Marianne insisted that they had many good years left together, she soon understood that he had grown weary. He received medicine for the pain and allowed death to approach him gently.

“Are you happy?” She asked. “Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?”

“Of course I’m happy,” he insisted with a wheeze. “Though this damnable cough has left my throat parched. Would you mind brewing some for me, my love?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Marianne answered, wiping a stray lock of white hair from his face. “Chamomile as usual?”

“This time, I think I would prefer that cinnamon blend we imported many moons ago.”

She poured them each a cup and shared it in silence. Tears welled up in Dimitri’s eyes as the flavor met his tongue; though he had long since recovered his sense of taste, this moment seemed miraculous. Enjoying Marianne’s favorite tea by her side was more than he could ever ask for. When he finished his cup, Dimitri grasped her hand and never let go.


End file.
